The Unholiest of Holidays
by Maria from Ravenclaw
Summary: Valentine's Day had always been sickening to Severus Snape, but some Februarys were worse than others.


_AN: This was originally an idea for a drabble in my "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Laughs" collection, but it started getting sad and angsty, so I allowed my spoilt brat of a muse to do what she wanted._

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The Unholiest of Holidays

Valentine's Day had always been sickening to Severus Snape.

When he was a little boy, he simply could not understand what there was to celebrate about romance. As far as he was concerned, the romantic union of two people meant they barely spoke to each other, unless they were yelling; they hardly ever touched each other, unless one of them was beating up the other; they did not truly feel anything for each other, except anger and disgust. Still, every year naïve idiots all around him defiantly coloured the world pink and red to show they did not agree.

At the age of nine, his opinion changed. At the age of nine, those golden-red locks that gleamed in the sun and those miraculous twinkling emeralds relieved some of the infinite darkness that was his life. When Lily's enchantments engulfed him, so abruptly and so intensely that every cell in his body seemed exist only to want her, he understood what true love was – but the so-called "valentines" were still wrong.

Store-bought bouquets, gaudy chocolate boxes and flimsy cards bearing artificial messages could never convey what it was to hold someone as dear as he held Lily. That conclusion only fuelled Severus's hatred for the holiday: how dare such mundane people with mundane sentiments claim to _love_ someone? Anything that could be represented by mechanical gestures once a year could not compare to love; anything of that sort was as good as what his parents had.

Those were the thoughts that visited Severus every February for five years, but when he was thirteen, something happened to change them again.

The 14th was a chilly day of winter. The Hogwarts grounds were covered in thick white snow and all over the place the piercing wind howled its tragic melody. In the morning, students having breakfast at the Great Hall could see an immaculate white sky mirrored on the bewitched ceiling.

Some metres below, however, the brown of the oblong tables and the black of the Hogwarts uniform were speckled with the pink and red of someone receiving a rose and someone else giving a package of sweets. One of the little pink dots was placed in a far-off corner, where Lily Evans anxiously held out a heart-shaped card for Severus Snape to take.

She smiled warmly, in hopes that would serve as an encouragement, but Severus wouldn't move a muscle – he _couldn't_ move a muscle, he felt as though he had been turned into an ice statue, and Lily's gorgeous smile only made matters worse. At last, noticing how horribly his hands were trembling, the boy decided he was not an ice statue and finally took the card.

Inside it, in curly printed letters was "Happy Valentine's Day to my best friend!" and in Lily's pretty handwriting, "To Sev," at the top and "Lots of love, Lily" at the bottom. Those words drained his face of all colour and held him in a chaotic trance for what seemed like ages – which was odd, because he usually felt an uncomfortable blush creep into his cheeks when Lily did things like that.

It was obviously a great pleasure that she thought him important enough to deserve a gift, but... Did that mean she was... one of _them_? He quickly discarded the disturbing idea. No, of course not, Lily was not "one of" anything. Lily had her own unique celestial aura of light and warmth, and if Lily thought it wise to express her affections towards Severus in a Valentine's Day card, then Valentine's Day cards could be sincere and meaningful, and there was nothing Severus would cherish more than one of those.

"Sev, are you alright?" she asked, apprehensive and slightly worried at Severus's apparent lack of response. "I– I understand if you don't like– Oh, that was silly of me, I shouldn't have– I'm sorry."

"Lily, no, that's not–"

But much to Severus's irritation, Sirius Black had just yelled an "Oi, Evans!" from the Gryffindor table.

"Ugh, I'll be right back, Sev," she said, and with a "What is it now, Black?" disappeared in the crowded hall.

Severus was still in his state of confused shock and next thing he knew the paper heart in his hand was catching fire. Before he could even process the sight before him and the devastating effects it had, his head started darting from side to side so swiftly he might break his neck, in search of something that could explain those flames. His efforts were useless, except for a glimpse of a wand and... were those glasses?

Then Severus's brain picked up its usual pace and allowed him to understand what had happened. He didn't have time for his fury to sink in, though, as Lily was back and the fire was gone, but so was the card, which had been replaced by ashes.

Her lips moved shakily a few times, but she did not say anything. The look on her face was a terrifying mixture of resentment and hurt. That frown, those quivering lips and those tiny drops slowly growing in her outstanding eyes left Severus feeling like his heart had dropped to his feet.

"Lily, don't–" he pleaded, but Lily shook her head and walked away.

That was the first and last time Severus received a Valentine's Day present. It was also the first and last time that cursed holiday had come close to being enjoyable, but in the end it turned out to be one of the worst days in Severus's life.

Now every year he was haunted by that hideous memory and the many companions it always brought along: memories that made him hate James Potter and memories that made him hate himself; memories of anger, pain, sadness, bitterness and, most of all, regret.

The most horrible 14th of February after Severus finished his studies was certainly in 1992. That Lockhart fool had no idea how much damage he was causing with his over-the-top decorations and ghastly singing cupids. Such a suffocating atmosphere of flamboyant futilities made it impossible for the Potions master to attempt to pretend it was a day like any other – although he had never managed to fully indulge in that blissful illusion.

In the evening, Severus skipped dinner. While everyone else was immersed in the cosy cloud of merriness that enveloped the Great Hall, he sat forlorn in his chamber. A lonely candle on the table had the burden of illuminating the entire room; next to it, a lonely lily flower sat melancholy in a vase; buried in a chair, the lonely man gazed longingly at a worn photograph for hours on end.

A young woman's face framed by silky clouds of red hair that had never been his, perfectly sculpted delicate shapes that had never been his, a sweet glowing smile that had never been his and a pair of hypnotizing green eyes that had never been his.

Severus's own beetle-black irises were surrounded by irritated red vessels, and tired eyelids threatened to fall over them any second now.

Suddenly, the girl's cheery expression had its place taken by a scowl. She crossed her arms and refused to look at Severus. Was she recalling the same memory he was? Several times he tried in vain to convince her that it hadn't been his fault – that _none_ of it had been his fault, but she refused to believe him, like she had done years ago. And the pain of being rejected stung as much as it had done years ago, as if those old wounds had never showed the slightest sign of healing.

At length, the girl in the picture turned her back at Severus.

"Lily, don't–" he pleaded, but Lily shook her head and walked away.

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_AN: Don't forget to review! :)_


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